


I'll be your Mirror

by Mraowface



Series: Velvet Underground [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 00:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21006521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: Crowley has a rough time with his mental health.  Aziraphale helps him through things.





	I'll be your Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Contains a self harm scene - stay safe, everyone!

Aziraphale had been cataloguing books for two days straight. Crowley had soon tired of attempting to distract him, and had retreated upstairs, first to nap, and then to smoke in the bath. Aziraphale wouldn't approve, but Crowley ignored that thought.

An hour in, and on his second cigarette, Crowley was feeling a little unloved. Objectively speaking, he knew that his angel loved him. But Crowley did not deal well with this lack of attention. Aziraphale seemed locked away in a fortress of books, and Crowley didn't know how he could compete with that.

A spark fluttered down from his cigarette. It landed on his chest, and Crowley felt a tiny jolt of pain. He squashed the smut with his free hand. The pain felt almost welcome. Without thinking at all, he took a last drag and then crushed the cigarette out on his ribcage.

The burning sensation was something new to think about. Crowley focussed on the sharp heat, and felt his mind ease a little. He dropped the cigarette butt into the ashtray, and stroked the skin around the circular burn. His worries slipped away, as his mind sharpened its focus on the physical pain. His fingers circled closer, spiralling around the burnt skin. Everything seemed to be ok.

Crowley leaned his head back, and relaxed into the bath. There was a new shock of pain as the burn hit the hot water. That felt good too though. He let his whole body loosen, feeling like he was both floating and sinking. He lay like that for over an hour, drowsily letting his mind wander here and there.

With a sudden start, Crowley's mind kicked back into anxiety and worry. _Aziraphale._ His angel would know something was up, and if he found out what a fuck up Crowley was, it would all be over. Crowley had always known he didn't deserve Aziraphale's love, and here was proof right in front of him. He'd hurt himself without thinking, without considering how he was really hurting his angel much more.

Crowley spent the next twenty minutes going back and forth in his head: was it better to get rid of the mark, and hide what he'd done, or to leave it and show Aziraphale once and for all why a demon could never be worth anything. He didn't want to lose Aziraphale, but maybe it was for the best... it's not like he could make his angel happy.

With this thought, he found himself lighting up again. He inhaled deeply, and this time brought the cigarette down slowly, an inch down from the first burn.

“Crowley!”

Aziraphale was stood in the doorway, horror on his face. Crowley jerked his hand back up instinctively, and wrapped his other arm round his chest. He dropped the cigarette into the ashtray, and pulled his knees up to his ribs, trying to hide what he'd done.

Aziraphale stood frozen for a few seconds, before he abruptly stepped up to the bath.

“Let me see.”

Panicking inside, Crowley dumbly shook his head. Once Aziraphale saw, it would all be over. He felt himself on the edge of a cliff, knowing he would fall, only deferring the inevitable...

The angel knelt by the bath, and took Crowley's face in his hands.

“I need to see.”

No way out. Crowley slowly uncurled his hunched up body. He took his arms away last.

He dimly heard a gasp from his angel, as he saw the damage. It was all over now. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dearest...” Aziraphale began, but got no further. Crowley was shaking now, all pretence of control gone. He kept his eyes clamped firmly shut.

“Crowley dearest,” Aziraphale tried again, “what's happened here?”

Gently stroking his demon's cheeks, Aziraphale waited for an answer. Crowley stayed frozen, still deferring the inevitable fall downwards.

Crowley sat perfectly still, not even breathing. If he didn't move, then maybe Aziraphale would never speak, never reject him.

But this hope was soon shattered. Aziraphale spoke.

“My love, I need to know... what did you do?” He waited for a response, but none came. “I'm not angry, I just need you to talk to me. Please, Crowley.”

At this, Crowley opened his eyes. “You _should_ be angry.”

“I don't understand, love. Please tell me what's wrong.”

  
  
Crowley spat out a reply. “Isn't it obvious? I fucked up. I never deserved you, I just hurt you again and again...”

“Crowley dearest, it's _you_ that's hurt. Please tell me what's wrong, and I'll help fix it.”

“You can't fix me,” Crowley angrily blurted out. “Look.” He reached for the packet of cigarettes and the lighter.

“Don't!” Aziraphale looked horrified. _“Please_ stop, and listen to me. Whatever you're going through, I'm here with you.”

It was at this point that Crowley started crying. “I _don't know..._ I was just having a smoke, and then it just happened... I wasn't thinking. Please don't hate me...”

Aziraphale let out a deep sigh, and leaned forward to kiss the demon's forehead. “I could _never_ hate you. I love you, Crowley. I don't understand... I don't understand why you've hurt yourself, but I love you _so much,_ dearest. You're so beautiful, and so brave. So strong.”

Crowley just looked bewildered. “But I'm not...”

“You _are._ You saved the world with me. You never gave up, and you didn't let me give up either. We raised Warlock together, and I saw how much love and attention you gave him. How much love you give _me...”_

“I can't see any of that,” Crowley said forlornly.

“I know, dear. Come with me.” Aziraphale gently lifted Crowley at the armpits, helping him to stand, and wrapped him in a towel. Then he slowly led him out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom. He sat Crowley on the edge of the bed, and left his side briefly to fiddle with the CD player.

“I've been listening to some of your bebop...” he said, a little embarrassed. The music played.

_I'll be your mirror_  
_ Reflect what you are, in case you don't know_  
_ I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset_  
_ The light on your door to show that you're home_

They sat together on the bed, and listened. Occasionally Aziraphale squeezed his demon's hand.

_I find it hard to believe you don't know_  
_ The beauty you are_  
_ But if you don't let me be your eyes_  
_ A hand to your darkness, so you won't be afraid_

Aziraphale reached close to Crowley's chest. “Can I...?”

When Crowley nodded his assent, the angel stroked his fingers down Crowley's bony ribcage, healing the wounded skin. They both sighed.

“Angel... I don't understand why you would love me. But... I trust you. I'll try and believe you.” Crowley leaned sideways, and rested his head in Aziraphale's lap. The angel softly stroked his hair, soothing them both until they were ready to move on.


End file.
